


Unknown Number

by Rhienne



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adorable porn, But he tries hard, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Christophe Giacometti is a Little Shit, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Katsuki Yuuri Is a Victor Nikiforov Fan, M/M, Masturbation, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Oblivious Phichit Chulanont, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Banquet, Secret Identity, Victor Nikiforov's Phone Number
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhienne/pseuds/Rhienne
Summary: “Last night I received a VERY dirty phone call from an unknown number,” he told them.Immediately all the color drained from Yuuri’s face. Fuck. No.This couldn’t be happening.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 58
Kudos: 177





	1. Phone Call Number 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started this fic after a delirious migraine dream I had after reading too much YOI fanfiction >.>
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri woke up the worst hangover he had had in a long time. He had always had a high tolerance for alcohol, but also managed to handle it poorly, thanks to his Kyushi heritage. But now the two were coming together in the worst way, and Yuuri groaned as he caught flashes of the night before — a dance-off with Yuri Plisetsky, pole dancing with Christophe Giacometti, and — holy crap, had he tangoed with Viktor Nikiforov? He buried himself back under the hotel covers. He could skip his flight back to the States and stay here wallowing in his bad choices for the rest of the day, right?

He reached out of his makeshift blanket den to grab his phone from the bedside table. He had plenty of time for a good long wallow before he had to think about the airport. He swiped through his notifications, ignoring the ones from social media — he did not have the energy for that rabbit hole right now — before noticing one from his call center.  _ An outgoing call? _ Who did he call last night?

On the screen flashed the name Viktor Nikiforov. When in the hell had he gotten Viktor Nikiforov’s number? The call lasted for 8 minutes and 46 seconds, so clearly either they had talked or he had left some sort of a message. Oh god oh god oh god he had no idea what blackout drunk Yuuri thought was appropriate phone conversation. The only part of his night he remembered after he left the banquet hall was…

Yuuri blushed and heat pooled in his lower belly as he remembered the very last part of his night before he had passed out. He hoped to god the call to Viktor had happened sometime before he had come back to his room and jerked off to the thought of the silver-haired god himself. God he was a fucking idiot, doing something like that in the same building as his idol. Yuuri was fucked up, and this was just the latest piece of proof in a series of bad judgement calls on his part.

He let that memory join the others from the night before — where had Chris even gotten a pole to tempt him with?? — and extended his wallow time by half an hour.

***

“Yuuri! Over here!”

Yuuri looked up from his phone as his name was called across the lobby, in time to blush hard as he noticed Vitkor Nikiforov waving at him from across the room. He was standing in a group of six or seven other skaters, mostly men, although he could already see Mila Babicheva’s shocking red hair, and Sara Crispino shoving her brother away from the group. He waved timidly — anything to get the tall Russian to stop manically waving his arms, and switched directions to join the group. “Hi, V-Viktor,” he mumbled shyly as he approached.

He couldn’t believe it. He was being waved down by Viktor Nikiforov —  _ the Viktor Nikiforov _ — and he had his phone number saved in his phone. Which meant that Viktor had given it to him. Which meant Viktor probably expected him to  _ text  _ him with it… 

“Yuuri,” Viktor chided good-naturedly, “why so shy? You were so bold last night! Where did that Yuuri go?” The rest of the group laughed along, and Yuuri wanted to go back upstairs and crawl back into his blanket den, but Viktor threw an arm over his shoulders. “I’m kidding, Yuuri, we all had fun last night. I think it might have been the best banquet I’ve ever been to!”

Several others in the group made noises of agreement, although Yuri Plisetsky scoffed and went back to paying attention to his phone.

“Don’t mind him,” Viktor whispered conspiritorily, and Yuuri had to repress a shiver as Viktor’s mouth came much too close to his ear. “He’s still pissed he lost the dance-off.”

“So what were you saying happened after the banquet last night, Viktor?” Chris asked, returning to a previous conversation point Yuuri had walked in on.

“Oh yes!” Viktor was reminded, not bothering to remove his arm from Yuuri’s shoulder. He dropped his voice a couple of octaves and leaned in. “Last night I received a VERY dirty phone call from an unknown number,” he told them.

Immediately all the color drained from Yuuri’s face.  _ Fuck. No. _

This couldn’t be happening.

But it was because Viktor continued. “Someone on the other end was  _ clearly _ getting busy, I could hear all of the juicy details,” he said with a wink into the group.

“Gross, old man, I don’t want to hear about someone prank calling you while having sex,” Yuri Plisetsky growled.

“But Yura, I haven’t even told you the best part!” Viktor exclaimed.

Yuuri, whose hands were already covering his face, froze under Viktor’s arm.  _ Oh shit, _ he thought,  _ what else could I have done? What’s the best part? _ He was practically hyperventilating.

“The person on the other end started calling my name,” Viktor purred.

“That’s kind of creepy,” Michele Crispino said. “Like, who calls someone else’s name while they’re having sex with someone?”

“I don’t think they were with another person,  _ mon cheri _ ,” Christophe told him.

“Who was it?” Mila asked. “Did you recognize their voice?”

Yuuri was about to melt into the floor in front of all these witnesses when Viktor hummed thoroughly, putting a finger to his lips. “No,” he said, and Yuuri practically fell over with relief. “It was too muffled — it sounded like there was fabric or something covering the phone. Maybe a butt-dial of some sort. But it was clearly my name, and a couple… other things that I will refrain from sharing…” Viktor’s eyes were lit up, mouth curling up into a smirk. “Whoever it was, they were pretty dirty on the phone.”

Yuuri pulled a hand off his face and pressed it to his chest in order to try and stop the racing beat.  _ Viktor doesn’t know it was me _ , he reassured himself.  _ Viktor doesn’t know. He’ll never know. It’s over; it’s over and it’ll never happen again _ .

“I’m so glad I saved the message!” Viktor said.

“Gross, old man,” Yuri repeated with additional spite.

“Oho, it was a voicemail, Vitya?” Christophe fluttered his eyelashes. “Can we hear?” he purred.

Viktor smirked again. “Sorry, Chris, it’s mine and mine alone. I’m… saving it.”

Chris’ eyes sparkled. “Just how dirty was the call? You liked it, didn’t you  _ mon coeur _ ?”

Yuuri’s head snapped around to Viktor just as a light dusting of blush spread across his idol’s face. “I was… very flattered,” he told the group, waving the attention away. “As flattered as one can be from an anonymous person using you for masturbation material,” he added with another smirk, and the whole group tittered, as though they knew the feeling.

Celestino appeared beside Yuuri. “Ready to go?” he asked the skater, and in his hurry to escape the conversation in front of him and Viktor’s arm around his shoulder, he turned and practically tripped over his own bag that he had placed right behind him. Yuuri spared a glance back over his shoulder as he left and caught Viktor looking forlornly after him.  _ But why? _

“Bye Yuuri! See you at Four Continents!” Chris sang out after him, and Viktor perked up some, enough to toss a wave and a wink in his direction.

“So Viktor,” Yuuri heard Mila ask as he approached the glass lobby doors, “do you think the prank caller is going to call back?”

Viktor hummed. “A boy can dream,” he said, and winked to more laughter.

***

Yuuri was riding to the airport, desperately blasting music through his earbuds in an attempt to quiet his brain, as he realized another important fact and proceeded to choke on the deep gasp he tried to suck in. Celestino looked at him in concern, but he waved at the Italian man and his coach closed his eyes again and settled back against his chair.

Yuuri didn’t even know if he could have had a conversation with him if he had tried. He was too busy coming to a conclusion that he hadn’t thought of up until that point.

Viktor Nikiforov saved his message.

Viktor Nikiforov had it saved under  _ his _ phone number. An  _ Unknown Number _ .

Which it would no longer be as soon as he saved Yuuri’s contact info.

Which meant that Yuuri could never text Viktor Nikiforov.

The second he texted, his idol would save his number, and he’d know that Yuuri was the dirty pervert who had called him that night. He would know that Yuuri liked touching himself while imagining Viktor as his partner. He would  _ know _ that all of the (probably) kinky, disgusting shit that was said on that phone call belonged to none other than Yuuri Katsuki, obsessive fan.

Yuuri could never let that happen. So he could never text Viktor.

He sank deeper into the coach seat and squeezed his eyes shut.


	2. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did you want to know what happened during the call?
> 
> You're welcome.

Click.

Bedsheets rustle. Heavy breathing. Silence.

More rustling. The sound of a bottle cap clicking open, followed by a breathy hum.

_ Hmmnnngg...ahh _

_ Mmmmm _

More rustling.

_ Hah-ahh… _

Mumbled speech.

_ Viktor… Vi-hah… _

Rustling, then slick, wet sounds.

_ Mmmm, Viktor… Viktor please… _

_ Hah… hah… AH! _

_ Oh god… Viktor! _

More wet sounds, creaking.

_ Vik- Viktor… please I- I want it s-so bad… _

A gasp.

_ Y-yes… right there… keep touching— AH! FUCK! _

_ Right there, yes! Viktor! _

A gasp, then a whine.

_ Such a tease, Viktoooorr… Please, I need you…  _

_ Please… _

_ I need… you… need you to finger me… _

_ I need you inside me… _

_ Please, I’ll beg if you need me to…  _

Rustling, a breathy moan.

_ I’ll do whatever you want, just please…  _

_ Mmmm.... _

_ I want… I want to fuck myself on your fingers… I want them hitting deep inside me, filling me up… _

_ I  _ need _ this, please… AH! Viktor! _

_ Yes, oh god, yes! _

_ That feels… a-amazing… _

_ Stretch me wide open for you…I can take it… I can take anything you give me… _

_ Ahhhmmmmmm… _

_ Viktor… _

_ I want…  _

_ I want your cock… _

_ I want to suck your cock, please… _

_ I want… want to feel you inside me… _

_ I want you to stretch me open from both ends… _

_ My mouth stretched wide on your thick dick… while your fingers are inside me… Fuck…  _

_ I want… I want you to grab my hair and use it to fuck into my mouth… _

_ Ah! Viktor… _

_ I’ll suck your cock so hard, until you can’t hold back anymore…  _

_ I want to feel you fuck my face until I choke on your dick… until I’m crying with how good it feels to have you claim me…  _

_ I’d look so pretty with tears in my eyes, your cock stuffing my mouth…  _

_ I’ll bet it feels good to be your cocksleeve… _

_ Would you like that, Viktor? I’ll be your personal cockslut… _

_ I’ll suck your dick until the drool pools out my mouth and I can’t breathe, and then… _

_ I want you to come down my throat — Ah! AH! Right there!  _ YES! _ Yes! _

Frantic rustling and creaking increase.

_ Viktor! _

_ VIKTOR! I’M COMING! _

_ CO—  _

A breathy, choked sound. Creaking stops. Panting.

A shuddering gasp.

Silence.

After 30 seconds, there’s more rustling.

A breath overloads the phone speaker. 

A giggle. A giddy voice comes through. 

_ Did you like that… Viktor? _

Click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try this at home, kids.
> 
> No seriously, though, don't do this kind of thing with any partner or love interest without their permission. #consentissexy


	3. Phone Call Number 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri never makes the same mistakes twice.
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

Yuuri avoided Phichit for as long as he could upon his arrival home. First claiming jetlag, he holed himself up in his room the whole day he came back, frantically swapping between staring at the screen of outgoing calls where Viktor’s number stayed at the top of the list, to stalking Viktor on social media, completely sure that Viktor had finally figured out who the caller was and posted something somewhere to announce his discovery to the world. _Yuuri Katsuki called me for phone sex! <3 <3 <3 _

Yeah, Viktor would definitely do that.

On day 2, Yuuri rushed out the door early, claiming that he really needed to cram before his in-person finals next week. He spent all that day and the next, barring practices, holed up in the library trying desperately to distract himself with Microbiology and Philosophical Theory.

It was only partially successful.

Phichit finally cornered him at the rink on Day 4 of his return. “I don’t know what happened in Sochi, and I’m not sure you’re ready to tell me, but no matter what it was, I want to give you this,” he told Yuuri, locking him into a hug as he pressed him against the locker room wall.

“Peach! N-nothing happened!” Yuuri stammered, desperate to be out of an embrace he surely did not deserve. He was slime, he was dirty, he had called Viktor Nikiforov and had phone sex with his machine, oh god, he was thinking about it again.

“Hey, none of that now,” Peach told him, feeling him tense up. “You may be able to hide it from yourself, but you can’t hide it from me.” He squeezed harder until Yuuri took a shuddering breath in and released it. “That’s better,” he said firmly, before drawing back to grab Yuuri by his upper arms and look him over.

“Mari called me,” Peach told him. Yuuri immediately paled.

In all his frantic worrying about Viktor and the phone message, Yuuri had completely forgotten about Vicchan. And that made all the air whoosh out of his lungs.

“Whoa, Yuuri, you’re okay, it’s okay,” Peach said soothingly, guiding him over to a bench. “We don’t have to talk about it, I just wanted to let you know that I know, and that I’m here if you want to talk about it.” He rubbed his hand in soothing circles over Yuuri’s back.

Yuuri took a few deep breaths, allowing a couple of tears to escape. “I-I’m fine,” he breathed out, rushing to assure Peach. “I’m okay, really. I haven’t really, um… been thinking about it.” He immediately felt guilty for such an admission. _Your dog dies and all you care about is phone sex with Viktor Nikiforov? Pathetic, pathetic Yuuri._

Peach was nodding through, continuing to rub circles up and down his spine. “Okay, so not Vicchan, then,” he stated, still probing. “Did something happen after the competition? In the hotel, or at the banquet?”

Yuuri let out a light huff that ended in a groan. “Don’t ever talk to me about the GPF banquet ever again. I’m never going to another one.” He placed his elbows on his knees and sunk his head into his hands.

“What happened?” Peach asked. “Is this why Chris was tweeting out hashtags about the best GPF banquet ever? Because that _definitely_ sounds like something you’d be depressed about.” He was smirking now; Yuuri could feel the heat of it even with the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes.

“You know, it’s rude to cyber-stalk your best friend when he’s on another continent,” Yuuri practically growled.

Peach huffed. “How could I cyber-stalk you, Yuuri? Your social media presence is like, none, whatsoever. I couldn’t cyber-stalk you if I _tried_.”

“And you wonder why I refuse to put things on the internet.”

“Are you saying you refuse to put things on the internet just because you don’t want me to see them? Ouch, I take personal offense to that.”

“I’m saying I don’t put personal things on the internet because think of all the creepy people who aren’t you who would then be cyber-stalking me.”

Peach hummed. “True, your fans are very dedicated.”

Yuuri scoffed. “Fans, yeah.”

“Yuuri, at least half of my Instagram followers are only there to follow you.”

“I think you’re underestimating your charm. And overestimating mine.”

“The last photo I posted of you got over 1.7 million likes.”

“You were in that photo too, don’t even bluff.”

“The point is…” Peach started, then paused. “Wait, where was I going with this?”

Yuuri sighed. “I need to remind you now that you were trying to wheedle information out of me?”

“Oh, that’s right! What happened at the banquet?”

Yuuri waved his hand, sitting up. “I drank more than I should; shenanigans ensued.” He hoped Peach would leave it at that.

Peach never left anything at _just that_.

“Ooh, I love shenanigans!” Peach squealed. “Details, Yuuri!”

Knowing it would be best to just tell his best friend, Yuuri sighed. “I may have challenged Yuri Plisetsky to a dance-off, done some pole-dancing with Christophe Giacometti, and ended the night with _atangowithViktorNikiforov_ ,” he said, speeding up his speech at the end so he wouldn’t chicken out.

“You did WHAT?” Peach exclaimed. “Yuuri, I am so proud of you!! You actually _danced_ with the Living Legend, the God of Ice Skating? Our Lord and Savior, Viktor Nikiforov?”

Yuuri groaned.

Peach was grinning ear to ear. “Wow, Yuuri, I don’t even have the words for this moment. Congratulations? We should throw a party! An ‘I finally approached the guy I’ve been crushing on from afar and tangoed him off his feet” party!”

“Phichit, no.”

“Okay, how about just a party, then? I won’t even share what it’s for.” He winked at Yuuri.

Yuuri sighed again. “A party wouldn’t be too bad,” he admitted. Peach threw amazing parties, when Yuuri would let him. Mostly it was just Yuuri sitting in a corner nursing the same drink the whole time, and Peach flitting from group to group like the social butterfly that he was, but Yuuri loved the high energy that came along with having people in their house. Plus, if he really wanted to, he could always duck out early like he had at parties previously. “But not until after our finals next week,” he reminded Peach.

Peach clapped his hands together. “Awesome. This is going to be great! This is just what you need to get out of that funk.” He stood up from the bench, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and pulling him along after him toward the doors that led back to the rink.

Yuuri loved Peach. He always helped him to forget why he was so frustrated to begin with. And a party would be a great way to let off some steam.

“And to think,” Peach said, chuckling to himself, shattering the calm that Yuuri had collected, “you were that upset over just talking to Viktor Nikiforov. How are you ever going to ask for his number?”

***

Yuuri was on his third beer of the evening. Fortunately for him, Peach believed in splurging for the housemates and giving out the cheap shit to their guests; thus while most of the invitees were chugging cans of PBR, he was set up with a nice bottle of IPA in his usual corner. It was a good thing because without the addition of good beer, Yuuri didn’t think he would have been able to drink this much tonight.

And he desperately needed to drink tonight.

Finals were over. He had done alright, thanks to his focus over the last two weeks, brought on in part by trying to avoid a certain subject within his own brain. But since the last one ended earlier that day, he had been revisiting the events after the banquet, and the next morning, over and over again in his head.

He didn’t remember any specifics about that night’s… _events_ … but he was sure it probably followed the same pattern he had around similar nights. He blushed just thinking about what usually got him going, and hid it behind another pull on his beer.

The morning after, though… he couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head.

_“Last night I received a VERY dirty phone call from an unknown number.”_

Yuuri coughed; the thought popped into his head before he could swallow his latest mouthful of beer, and he choked a little on the bitter beverage. Peach looked over, slightly concerned, but Yuuri waved at him to signal everything was fine.

_“I’m so glad I saved the message!”_

Yuuri shuddered. Why would Viktor save that? He was disgusted with it, wasn’t he? Yuuri was disgusted with himself.

He thought back again to his most frequent fantasies involving Viktor — who was he kidding, all his fantasies involved Viktor. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair.

_“Sorry, Chris, it’s mine and mine alone. I’m… saving it.”_

At least he hadn’t wanted to share Yuuri’s humiliation with the rest of the group. Yuuri didn’t know how he would have crawled back out from that experience. Wouldn’t, probably. He’d rather quit ice skating than have to face that crowd again with everyone knowing he was the perverted prank caller.

But there was something else in Viktor’s voice when he had said that; not just a kindness toward the unknown other person. It was almost… possessive? That didn’t seem like the right word...

 _“Just how dirty was the call? You liked it, didn’t you_ mon coeur _?”_

Yuuri’s eyes widened. Viktor… he couldn’t have… _liked_ the call? Even Yuuri found it repulsive, and he was the one who had instigated the damned thing!

_“I was… very flattered.”_

If Viktor had liked it… Yuuri shifted again; his jeans growing tight against his groin at an impossibly swift rate. If Viktor had liked it, did that mean…

Did Viktor listen to the recording?

Did Viktor… _touch himself_ … while listening to the recording?

_“As flattered as one can be from an anonymous person using you for masturbation material.”_

Yuuri’s face burned as he remembered. Viktor had waved off the admission, had never taken the whole thing seriously anyway. He’d only been playing to the crowd, been hyping up the experience, overexaggerating for his friends.

He’d never actually enjoy receiving dirty phone calls from random sources.

_“Sorry, Chris, it’s mine and mine alone. I’m… saving it.”_

Yuuri’s mind wandered to the silver-haired Russian, in bed, phone on speaker propped against the pillow next to him. He imagined the man lying naked on top of the bedsheets, hands glistening in the low light from the lube he pulled up and down his… 

Yuuri shook his head.

Viktor wasn’t into that.

Still… 

_“So Viktor, do you think the prank caller is going to call back?”_

_“A boy can dream.”_

Yuuri was crazy. Absolutely crazy. But he was also drunk enough to actually consider the possibility before him.

Viktor didn’t have his number. Viktor didn’t know who he was.

Viktor _never_ needed to know who he was.

And… Viktor saved the message.

Yuuri clambered off the couch, speed walking toward his room before shutting and locking the door.

He was going to hate himself so much in the morning.


	4. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call numero dos
> 
> #PWP >.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

Click.

_Hhhhhhhhh… hello?_

Bedsheets rustle, mattress creaks.

_I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure I was going to do this again…_

_I’m not usually this… forward, but…_

_I keep thinking about… you with my message._

_Viktor, I have to know…_

_Viktor… did you…_

_Did you touch yourself to my last message?_

An audible swallow, then a shaky laugh.

_It’s silly I know, I just… I can’t get the image out of my head…_

Rustling, the speaker crackles for a minute. When the voice comes back, it sounds farther away.

_I want it… so badly…_

_I want to know… if you got off to the sound of my voice…_

_Fuck…_

_So hot…_

Rustling, silence.

Then, the click of a bottle cap.

_Mmmmm…_

_Just the thought gets me so hard for you, Viktor._

_Are you hard for me too?_

_Are you… are you getting ready to touch yourself?_

_Ah! Are you — hhhhnnggg — are you imagining me touching you?_

A gasp.

_… I’m imagining you touching me…_

Low, wet sounds.

_Ah… ahh… fuck, Viktor…_

_Fuck, your h-hands…_

_Don’t stop…_

Rustling, a creak.

_Mmmm, Viktor…_

_Your hands… they feel so good…_

_They’re sliding up and down my dick, they’re… fuck, they’re cupping my balls, ahh, yes…_

_You know all my sensitive spots… mmmm…_

_Viktor…_

_Fuck, Viktor… I’m so hard for you, goddamn…_

_Your hands… they’re everywhere…_

An intake of breath.

_Th-that… m-my nipples…_

_Fuck, they’re sensitive, Vik— hah, ah…_

_Viktor…_

_Mmm, my hands are so wet, it’s almost like you’re sucking on them…_

_I want your tongue on me, I want to feel your mouth clamp down and suck…_

_I want you to suck so hard I get bruised…_

_I want you to bruise my nipples, my neck…_

_Fuck… mark me, Viktor…_

_Make me yours…_

_Take your tongue and trace the lines of my stomach, the c-curves of my hips… ahh..._

_I want, mmmm, I want you to suck bruises into my thighs…_

Panting & rustling. When the voice comes back it’s louder than before.

_Viktor… did you know I like my ass played with?_

_It’s why… I like being taken from behind…_

_I— I’m on my knees for you, Viktor…_

An audible gulp; a loud exhale that brushes too close to the speaker.

_Mmmm, I want you here… so bad…_

_If you were here, would you play with my ass?_

_Would you… squee-HEEze it, Viktor? AH, mmmm, oh…_

_FUCK, Viktor…_

_It feels so good…_

_I could come just from you playing with my ass, oh god…_

_Would you… spread me open? Hhhhhnngg…_

_Would you maybe… lower yourself down to take a look?_

_See my twitching hole, my — AH — my heavy balls, m-my leaking cock…_

_It’s all yours, Viktor…_

_I’m all yours…_

_I’ll do whatever you want, so please…_

_Please, will you touch me?_

Panting for several seconds.

_V-Viktor?_

More panting, followed by a whine.

_P-please, Viktor!_

Rustling.

_Y—_

_AH!_

_Fuck, Viktor!_

_I-I want you inside!_

_Inside me, V-Viktor! Please! I c-can’t!_

_I need it! Please!_

_Hhhhhaah…_

_Ffffff—_

_Yes._

_Oh yes. Oh god._

_Yes, please, put it in. I need it!_

_I n— AHH!_

_Oh fuck!_

_Fuck, yes, Viktor, fuck!_

_You… you feel so good… you slid right in…_

_Hah… ah…_

_Fuck…_

_It’s so fucking huge… it feels so tight…_

_I want to feel you… fuck, I want to feel you come inside me…_

_Would you do that for me Viktor?_

_Would you — ah — would you ram your cock into my ass?_

_I want… I don’t want you to be gentle…_

_I want to feel you use me…_

_I’m yours, Viktor… use me… please…_

_I-I’m ready…_

_HAH… I c-can feel you slide out, nice and slow, and then — HAAH — slam back into me…_

_You’d like that, w-wouldn’t you? HAH —_

_Your cock pulling across my favorite spot slowly, then — HAAH — filling me up with one… sharp… thrust…_

_HAH — HAAH — HAH — HAAH —_

_Yes… Mmm, HAH, Viktor, HAAH…_

_I can feel the drag of your cock inside me…_

_Oh fu-HUH-ck, Viktor, HAAH…_

_You feel… HAH… So good… HAAH — AH —_

_Fuck, ViktOR, I’m going to come, HAH…_

_I want… I wa-HAH-nt to come on your COCK…_

_Your deliciously thi-HICK cock stretching me open, UNNGHH —_

_I want you to fuck me so hard — FUCK — that I come untouched…_

_Do you think you can do that, Viktor? AH, VIKTOR —_

_I want… MMM, want you to feel me come on your cock…_

_I want my insides to squeeze you — AAH — so hard, so HARD as I’m coming that you can’t sta-HAND it…_

_I want you AH to come from the AH feel of me around you, AH, AAH —_

_AAAHH!_

_VIKTOR!_

_I’M CLOSE!_

_I’M —_

A gasp. A scream. Heavy creaking and rustling.

Silence.

After about 45 seconds, there’s a creak and more rustling.

_S-sorry, I, um… I sometimes come so hard, I… I black out for a minute…_

_I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long…_

_I, um…_

_I have a weird request to make?_

_I just, I want you to tell me if… if you want me to stop._

_I’m not..._

A sigh.

_I’m not going to keep doing this if you’re… disgusted by me._

_But I don’t think I could stop by myself at this point._

_I mean… I didn’t even think there was going to be a second call…_

A shaky laugh.

_So just, I don’t know._

_Send me some sort of a sign?_

_And if you don’t want this I’ll…_

_I’ll stop. Really._

Silence.

Click.

***

The next morning, Yuuri woke up to a new Twitter post from VIktor Nikiforov.

**Viktor-Nikiforov-Official**

Got a VERY nice surprise when practice was done yesterday! I don’t know who you are, but keep up the good work! I’m a huge fan ;)

> _373,800 others retweeted_
> 
> **yuri-plie**
> 
> what the hell are you talking about old man?
> 
> **Mila Babe**
> 
> Viktor, I think you forgot to upload the picture!
> 
> **CookieChris**
> 
> MHM GET IT VIKTOR


	5. Phone Calls Numbers 3-6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This. Is a thing. That Yuuri does now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

After Viktor’s Twitter post, Yuuri tried to keep in control.

He still got off to Viktor almost every night.

But he only called when he was feeling particularly needy, or when it had been a particularly long time. He barely remembered the first call, but he remembered the second all too clearly, and he had plenty of fantasy material involving Viktor to make each of his calls unique.

_I’ve heard it said I have some pretty nice thighs… Mmm, they’re thick and firm…_

_I want to feel your cock in between them, my thighs covered in lube while you rut against me, desperate for release…_

_Do I make you desperate, Viktor?_

Armed with the sense that he couldn’t do any more poorly than he had at the GPF, and that, for some reason, after the banquet there were a bunch of skaters he was kind-of friends with on social media cheering him on, he managed to pull himself together enough to go to Nationals in Japan at the end of the next week and come out with a Silver Medal. Of course, calling the night before the Free Skate had helped immensely.

_Fuu — yes — right there — Viktor — hhhhhnng…_

_Oh god oh god…_

_Do you ever wonder — AAH —- do you ever imagine…_

_Sometimes I imagine being fucked so hard — MMMMmm-aaaahhhh —_

_I imagine being fucked so hard I end up pregnant, hah, AHH, FUCK —_

_VIKTOR —_

Yuuri sometimes caught himself going over words or phrases he wanted to use in his next phone call, muttering them under his breath as he walked to and from campus buildings. Every time he realized what he was doing, he flushed, pressed his lips together, and walked even more quickly to his next destination, head down so he couldn’t accidentally make eye contact with anyone who had overheard him.

Once on the bus, he had a girl actually stop and say, “Sorry, were you talking to me?” to which he hastily and loudly stammered a negative reply and then got off the bus at the next stop, even though it was three stops too early.

_MMmmffffgg, mmmng, ohmmmmmg…_

_Fuck, yes, Viktor, mmm…_

_Fuck my throat then fuck my ass…_

_Ram it in— MMMMMmckgg — MMMMM, MMmmng, mmmhhg…_

Each time he called, Yuuri made sure it was a time when Viktor was at the rink or the studio, and because he knew his schedule pretty well (thank you, people who don’t mind cyber-stalking strangers), he could always leave the message in plenty of time.

_AAAHH — AAAHH — VIKTOR — YES —_

_VIKTOR — VIKTOR —_

_VIK— COMING!!_

And Viktor was appreciative in the extreme. He let him know in tons of little ways that he appreciated the attention.

**Viktor-Nikiforov-Official**

TFW you’re expecting a phone call and it finally arrives! #beentoolong #lovesurprises #cantwaituntilnexttime

_262,000 others retweeted_

**Viktor Nikiforov** posted a new photo

[image description: a photo from elbow to fingertips, showing off a black wrist brace]

_Had a little TOO much fun last night - you know what I mean! ;) Bar hopping beforehand probably wasn’t a good idea ;) #Ihadfunanyways #addiction #blacknblueforyou_

**@VNikiforov**

The perfect playlist for our nights together <3 open.spotify.com/playlist/73498173989804334218 _Preview: “He Does it to Me Right” Playlist ← Click to open_

The reassurance was good for Yuuri — it was almost like Viktor knew he needed the encouragement in order to feel positively about what he was giving him.

Scrolling through the speculations and fan theories about what was going on that inevitably cropped up in the comments of Viktor’s increasingly confusing social media posts, however, was not encouraging. Lots of fans were trying to guess at a hook-up that was happening for Viktor, but his messages were so vague that even they couldn’t pinpoint an exact person he might be interested in.

Although reading through such comments gave him a stomach ache while he was doing it, he continued to do so because he wanted the reassurance that he wasn’t a suspect in the long list of random people fans were gossiping about. Even if they were to suspect he and Viktor of a standard romance — and what they had was the exact _opposite_ of romance — it would be a little too close to home and a little too illuminating for his tastes. He didn’t even want Viktor to know who he was, let alone the rest of the world.

He had been extra careful on each call to not leave anything incriminating in any of his messages — if he was going to be an anonymous caller, he was going to do it right. It was fine for Viktor to get off on some random fan giving him dirty calls — he probably received things like that in the mail and over the phone all the time — but as soon as he realized it was a _fellow skater_ — a person he was close to, who he had even had _conversations with_ — then the creepy factor rose by at least fifty percent. After all, with a fan, it was probably the only way they could reach out to such a big name. With Yuuri, well… what kind of fucked up person gets the phone number of their competitor and proceeds to call him and record himself masturbating just to the thought of Viktor fucking him?

Four Continents arrived in early February, an almost week-long event hosted in Osaka this year, at which Yuuri would see a lot of faces he recognized as well as some new up-and-comers. Many figure skaters who didn’t qualify for the GPF or Worlds used 4CC and the European Championships to compete against bigger names, particularly because many of the biggest stars on the ice were taking the competition off in order to prepare for Worlds in a month. For Yuuri, his anxiety was better with more practice and more competition time, so he always liked to attend. It also gave him a chance to be on the lookout for rising talent that may become a threat in the near future, and see a few familiar faces.

Speaking of which…

“Yuuri!” Chris called from across the baggage claim, wheeling a hot pink suitcase behind him and sporting a half-unbuttoned shirt and jeans that were so tight they might be illegal in some countries. “ _ Mon cheri _ , glad you’re here! What are the odds our flights got in at the same time, hmm?” He leaned in to hug Yuuri way too familiarly, swiping his hand down Yuuri’s back until Yuuri had to pull away for fear of the other man grabbing his butt.

“H-hi, Chris,” Yuuri mumbled from behind his face mask, blushing slightly. The other man was a fierce competitor, and was a common visitor to Four Continents, even though he competed regularly in Europeans the month before. Despite being so brash, Yuuri liked the other skater — he was quick-witted and sharp with a good sense of humor, and he always had a way to relieve the tension — or at least refocus it onto himself rather than Yuuri, where it liked to gravitate for some reason.

Yuuri grabbed his bag off the merry-go-round and they walked toward the exit together. “Do you, um… Want to share a cab into the city?” Yuuri asked once they were outside.

Chris beamed, nodded, and the two of them piled into the backseat of the cab. Chris chatted away, making small talk as the cabbie pulled onto the interstate to shoot into Osaka. He talked about seeing Cao Bin, Leo de la Iglesia, and Otabek Altin at the rink the next day, as well as some notable skaters from Japan and the US. Yuuri nodded along; all of the names were of strong competitors; he only hoped he could prove himself against such fierce opponents.

Chris was still talking. “... and of course, without JJ here, the Gold is really anybody’s game, so I’m sure there’ll be a lot of competitive skating this week,” he said with a wink in Yuuri’s direction. “I mean, truth be told, the only reason why I ever win Europeans anymore is because Yakov forbids Viktor from competing there and asks him to focus on Worlds instead.”

The mention of Viktor sparked a longing in Yuuri’s gut that was never far from the surface these days. “Viktor, he’s… he’ll be there at Worlds?” he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner.

“Mhm, he’s really a shoo-in, since there’s practically no one in Russia right now to challenge his seat. And seeing as he’s got four World Championship golds from the past four years, he’s got to be there to defend his title.”

Yuuri nodded again, thinking deeply. Viktor was the crowd favorite, no matter what country he competed in or which competition he attended. Having him out of the way for Europeans was probably a good thing for Chris, even if it meant Yuuri’s hadn’t been able to watch him dominate the ice once again last month.

“But that’s not even the juiciest gossip about Viktor right now. Did you hear, the Dirty Caller called him back!”

Yuuri froze, and he felt all the blood drain from his face. “Wh-what?”

Chris hummed, looking out the window. “Apparently, they’ve called several times to leave  _ personal _ messages for Viktor. I haven’t been able to get him to show them to me —” and here the other man sighed “— but I hear they’re  _ quite _ the spank bank material.” His eyes twinkled.

Yuuri blushed; he had never thought of himself as “spank bank material,” but that’s exactly what he was playing at now, wasn’t it? If Viktor was saving all of his messages, his voice was literally a part of the spank bank.

“I’ve heard Dirty Caller has quite the imagination, and a wide variety of… topics… they like to explore. Unfortunately for Viktor, he hasn’t hit on the one he’d like most of all yet.”

Yuuri’s head immediately snapped up, but Chris continued his disinterested stare out the window.  _ Did Chris know? _ No, no, that was impossible. If he was willing to entertain the notion that Chris knew, he had to be willing to entertain the idea that  _ Viktor _ knew, and he just wasn’t ready to even consider that possibility.

He cleared his throat instead. “Oh?” he prompted, hoping Chris would go into more detail.

Chris turned to look at him, a sucker for an interested audience. “Well, don’t tell him I told you, but…” Chris leaned toward Yuuri, dropping his voice into a sensual purr. “Viktor… is  _ really  _ into cum-eating,” he told Yuuri, his eyes sparkling. “He likes to lap it up, and to feed it to his partners.”

Yuuri’s mouth went dry. His pants went tight.  _ Fuuuuuuuuck _ , he was going to be thinking about that for a while. At least until his next phone call. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Yuuri.”

Yuuri choked back a gasp and his face reddened.

“You’re thinking, how would I know?”

Yuuri released his breath in a worn-out chuckle.

“Don’t worry, sweet Yuuri, it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking,” Chris continued. “Viktor and I like to gossip like girlfriends; there really is no such thing as TMI in our relationship. We talk about  _ everything _ .” His gaze turned sharp and he pierced Yuuri with it, and Yuuri’s throat closed; he was unable to look away.

_ Oh god oh god here it comes… _

“Yuuri,” Chris started, “why haven’t you texted Viktor yet?”

Yuuri squeaked at the question he  _ hadn’t _ been expecting. “Uh-um…”

“I know he gave it to you after the banquet, and he says you haven’t texted him yet.”

Yuuri blushed. “Th-that’s… you see…”

“You know, if you’re going to leave a guy hanging, at least have the decency to let him know you aren’t interested,” Chris chided, real concern on his face. “Viktor doesn’t fall often, but when he does he falls fast and deep, and it pains me to see him complimenting you every time we watch your programs, knowing that his phone remains devoid of your messages.”

“Y-you watch my programs together?” Yuuri managed to choke out.

Chris raised a single brow. “Oh honey,” he starts, “Viktor hasn’t missed a single one of your competitions in years.”

The new information sent his head spinning; it was too much. His brain was about to implode. Viktor religiously watched his routines. Viktor  _ never missed _ watching his routines. The news was mind-boggling, earth-shattering…

The cab stopped.  _ “We’re here,” _ the driver informed him in Japanese. Yuuri bit out a hasty “Thank you” before counting out their fare and exiting with Chris. Chris waved nonchalantly, mentioning something about a shower and airport smell, and Yuuri nodded along, content to watch the other man catch the first elevator up without him while he stood paralyzed in the lobby. He wasn’t sure what to think about first — cumplay or Viktor watching his programs or the fact that he was at the Fucking Four Continents Championship with a semi, thinking about a skater who wasn’t even there.

What a sad fuck he was.

***

Yuuri finished the short program in second place, right behind Cao Bin, and really, their scores were so close that it was still up in the air as to who would win. Yuuri scrolled through social media that night and read a ton of articles about the Ace from Japan who had come out of nowhere to challenge what was supposed to be a competition between Cao Bin, Yuzuru, and Leo, with Otabek acting as the dark horse of the competition. No one had expected Yuuri Katsuki to shoot ahead so strongly.

In part, it was because Yuuri’s confidence had been boosted by the idea of Viktor Nikiforov — _Viktor Nikiforov!_ — watching him on a livestream back home in Russia. But a nonzero contribution also belonged to the confidence he had gained in the bedroom since the last time he was on the ice. He imagined that even his competitors could see the change; not what he had been doing to enact it, per se, but just the fact that he carried himself differently. He felt himself walking a little taller, his chin raising a little higher. He felt like he shook more hands and made more eye contact in this competition than in any he had attended in the past, and that, for some reason, this was the first competition where he felt he actually belonged.

On the morning of the free skate, Yuuri woke up to find he had slept better than he usually did before a skate, and had awoken to the early morning light much more easily than he would have in the past. He wasn’t covered in sweat from tossing and turning in the night; the bedding was mostly still intact. And he was achingly hard.

Putting a hand down his pants, he thought again about his and Chris’ conversation in the car on the way over. He had thought about that conversation multiple times since being gifted with the information, most of those times being in situations like the one he was in right now. He thought back to his last phone call, over two weeks ago, then calculated the time difference. It was past 2 am in St. Petersburg, meaning Viktor would probably be asleep. It was probably safe to call.

Yuuri gripped his dick tight with his right hand and picked up his phone with his left. He waited for the familiar robotic voicemail message to come online, when he would change the phone over to speakerphone so he could more easily handle the range of motion he usually took.

“ _Privet,_ ” said the very non-robotic voice on the other end of the phone.

Yuuri froze, and his breath caught. It was Viktor. _Viktor_ was _awake_. Yuuri hadn’t even thought of the possibility of Viktor not being completely unavailable; in his mind, Viktor had become some untouchable being; his phone had been attached to a bottomless message pit where he could shout into the void and never receive a response.

He hurriedly pulled the phone away from his ear, his finger fumbling on the “end call” button and accidentally pressing the speaker button. Biting back a swear, he tried again, but his finger paused when he heard the next thing Viktor said.

“Is… is that you?”

Yuuri hesitated. He should hang up, but Viktor’s voice sounded so hopeful.

“If it’s you… please, I’ve been waiting for your call…”

Yuuri let out a heavy exhale, shuddering. He turned up the volume and placed the phone inside of the pillowcase next to him. “V-Viktor?” he breathed, and the man on the other end let out a sigh of relief.

“Yes, yes it’s me. Please don’t hang up.”

“I—” Yuuri’s throat was so dry; he swallowed harshly. “I won’t.”

_Fuck._


	6. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Viktor picks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

“Is… is that you?”

Yuuri hesitated. He should hang up, but Viktor’s voice sounded so hopeful.

“If it’s you… please, I’ve been waiting for your call…”

Yuuri let out a heavy exhale, shuddering. He turned up the volume and placed the phone inside of the pillowcase next to him. “V-Viktor?” he breathed, and the man on the other end let out a sigh of relief.

“Yes, yes it’s me. Please don’t hang up.”

“I—” Yuuri’s throat was so dry; he swallowed harshly. “I won’t. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to either. You’ve kept me waiting,” he pouted, and Yuuri huffed out a laugh.

“Been busy,” he said, his hand still resting at the base of his dick.

“You’re here now,” Viktor agreed, something akin to need in his voice. “I — do you mind if I record this?” he asked.

Yuuri laughed lightly. “Adding it to your spank bank?” he asked, slowly pulling his hand up to the tip of his cock, giving it a tug.

“Mmm. You _are_ my spank bank,” Viktor admitted, and Yuuri could see in his mind the light dusting of blush that would color the other man’s cheeks at that admission.

“Y-you can record it,” he whispered. “Are you ready?”

“Hold on.” There was silence, then a brief rustling from the other end. “I’m ready,” Viktor breathed from the other end of the line.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri moaned, his hand sliding back down and up his cock once. “I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

“Mmmm,” came a moan from the other end of the line.

“Thinking about this phone call for days.”

“Mmmm…”

“I want… fuck… I want to see you so bad.”

There was silence on the other end, then a very quiet, “I want the same.”

Yuuri raised his brow. “You want to see me, or you also want me to see you?”

“Both. Either.”

Yuuri hummed in approval. “If I could see you right now, what would I see?” he asked.

“I’m… mmm… I’m in my bed at home, lying on top of the blankets. I’ve got only my boxers on.”

Yuuri could picture it so clearly. “Are you hard?”

“Yes.”

“If I could see you, I’d trace your cock through your boxers, but I wouldn’t touch you yet.”

Viktor sucked in a breath. “Y-yes,” he agreed.

“Are you doing it?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm, Viktor, do you like being told what to do?”

“I like it when you tell me what to do,” Viktor countered. “I like it when you tell me anything.”

Yuuri shuddered, a moan making its way out of his mouth. He grabbed the lube off the side table. “I’m going to touch you now, Viktor. Are you ready?”

He heard the matching click on the other end of the line. “Yes,” breathed Viktor.

He spread the lube between his fingers, getting it nice and warm. “Mmm, Viktor,” he moaned into the phone. “This is the first time I have you at my disposal. Would you like it if I stretched you open tonight?”

There was a gasp from the other end of the line, followed by a deep moan. “Please!”

Yuuri chuckled. “I’m going to touch your cock, now, Viktor. But you’re not allowed to come until I say so.”

“Oh-okay,” came the shaky response, followed by the lewd, wet sound of lube sliding over skin.

“Where are you touching right now, Viktor?”

“M-my cock,” he whispered, swallowing. “My balls.”

“Good, that’s very good. Don’t go any farther yet.”

“Mmmm.”

“Viktor?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you put my fingers in your mouth right now?”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Y-yes.”

“Keep touching yourself, but take the other hand and get my fingers nice and wet for me, okay?”

“Hhhhnnngg,” came the muffled response.

“Good job, Viktor.”

“Bikha,” came the response.

“I didn’t hear that.”

Yuuri heard a pop, followed by a swallow. “Call me Vitya,” Viktor told him, “please?”

Yuuri groaned and stroked himself a little bit faster. “Vitya,” he said, and Viktor moaned lewdly.

“Vitya, are my fingers nice and wet?”

“Mmmmfffgh.”

“Mmm, hah, good job. I want you to take them out and circle your hole,” Yuuri instructed.

There was a loud squelch, followed by a low whine. “P-please,” the man at the other end stammered.

“Not yet,” Yuuri said. “Circle it, get the outside nice and wet. I’m going to use your own spit to fuck you on, Vitya.”

Viktor moaned, and Yuuri’s hips raised subconsciously at the sound.

“You like that idea? You like the image of sucking on my fingers, sucking on my cock, getting me all nice and lubed up for you to take in.”

Viktor moaned again, louder. Yuuri chuckled, his hand sliding at a steady rhythm.

“You don’t seem very verbal, Vitya. Are you enjoying yourself?”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then a rustling. “Yes,” Viktor’s voice came through, dry but louder than before. “I… sometimes, I can go nonverbal if I’m really into it.”

Yuuri hummed. “I like that you’re enjoying yourself. I’m going to assume I should keep going unless I hear otherwise.”

“Yes, please, keep going,” Viktor pleaded.

“Alright then,” Yuuri said, “you can put in a finger. Just one, and only to your first knuckle. I want you to stretch your rim for me, Vitya.”

Viktor moaned again at the nickname. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Do some shallow little thrusts just to there. I want you to tease your rim until it twitches on your finger.”

“It’s… it’s twitching,” Viktor said.

“Already?”

“Since we began,” Viktor admitted.

Yuuri let out a laugh. “Such a dirty mind, Vitya. Your hole is just waiting to be fucked, isn’t it?”

Viktor whined. “Please, fuck my hole, please!” he panted.

“Not yet, patience. You can put your finger all the way in.”

Viktor sighed in relief.

“Are you fucking yourself on your finger?”

“I- yes,” Viktor said. “I couldn’t not move,” he admitted.

Yuuri tutted. “So needy. Don’t worry, we’ll find a use for that needy hole of yours soon.” Viktor hummed in response.

“You can add another finger,” Yuuri instructed. Viktor moaned as he obeyed.

The panting on the other end slowly morphed into low groans of pleasure. “How-how many more?” Viktor asked desperately.

Yuuri hummed, pausing in his ministrations to look down at his own cock, angry and red from the minimal attention he was giving it. “I’m about four fingers across, so I’d say at least three to get you stretched nice and proper.”

Viktor let out a high-pitched whine, and Yuuri heard the slick noises in the background pick up. “I can take four,” Viktor told him.

Yuuri smirked, his hand speeding up again. “That’s what I like to hear. You can put in number three now.”

Viktor’s pants grew breathier, emitting little sounds as he dragged his fingers back and forth inside himself.

“Are you still touching your cock?”

“Y-yes.”

“You can stop now. You won’t touch it again until I say you can.”

Viktor whined, then whispered, “O-okay.”

“I want you on your knees, Vitya. Can you get there?”

There was a slight pause in sounds, then Viktor’s voice. “Oh-okay.”

“Good job. Keep fucking yourself on your three fingers.” 

“I am.”

“Good, that’s good Vitya.” Yuuri could see Viktor in his mind, face pressed to the pillows of his bed, his ass waiting and ready for him. “I want your other hand to come up behind you and stretch your ass open.” Viktor moaned deeply. “Give me a good view while I finger-fuck your hole.”

“Fuck, y-yes,” Viktor hissed, his voice muffled.

“Are you stretching yourself wide for me?”

“ _Da._ ”

Yuuri chuckled at the Russian. “Oh, Vitya,” he said. “Now listen. I want you to listen to my instructions, and then I want you to do exactly what I say when I say to.”

“Mmmm. Mhmm.”

“When I say so, I want you to start with your fourth finger. At the same time you push it in, I want you to slap your ass.”

“HAAH, AAHH,” Viktor moaned.

“Do you think you can do that, Viktor? Can you slap your ass and fuck yourself with my whole cock?”

“ _Da!_ ”

“Good, Vitya, do it now.”

There was a loud slap and a gasp, followed by a breathy moan. “Y— please,” Viktor said.

“Again.”

There was another slap of skin on skin, followed by loud, lewd, slippery sounds at a fast pace. “Please, I’m so close!” Viktor screamed.

“Don’t touch yourself yet, Vitya.”

“Please, I need it!” Viktor sobbed. “I need to come, please, Y— touch me, I want to come!”

“You want it that badly?” Yuuri teased, hand pumping furiously on his own cock, holding back his grunts. “You want my cock in your ass, my hand slapping you as you come all over yourself?”

“Please!” Viktor sobbed again.

“Mmm, you’d look so pretty covered in your own cum. I’d want to lap it right up.”

Viktor screamed, and Yuuri’s balls tensed at the base of his cock. He tipped over the edge.

“Come for me, Vitya.”

There was a choking sound, followed closely by wracking sobs. Yuuri gasped as his breath came back, having been fully knocked out of him by the force of his own orgasm. His head was spinning, and if he didn’t watch out, he would black out in a minute.

“Are you still there?”

That’s right, he couldn’t black out. He had to take care of Viktor. “M’here,” he scratched out groggily. Had he been screaming? His throat felt dry and scratchy.

Viktor chuckled. “Thought I lost you there for a minute.”

“No, I-I’m here, I’m here for you,” Yuuri struggled to get out.

Viktor laughed, louder this time. There was an airy quality about it that he didn’t seem to possess at other times when Yuuri had heard him speak. “Glad to know you’re still among the living,” he teased. “You sound like one of those guys who’re useless after sex.”

Yuuri groaned; Viktor had him pegged. “Vitya,” he complained.

He heard an intake of breath on the other end of the line. “I-I like it when you call me that,” Viktor admitted in a low voice.

Yuuri hummed. “Vitya. My Vitya,” he repeated, head spinning.

“Your Vitya,” Viktor agreed. Yuuri smiled.

“Better go,” he said after a minute of comfortable silence, the two of them basking in the post-sex glow. “Gotta shower now before heading out.”

“Good luck in the free program later,” Viktor said with enthusiasm.

Yuuri chuckled. “Thanks, will you be watching?”

Viktor hummed. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he agreed.

“Until next time, Vitya.”

“ _Dasvidaniya._ ”

It was only after Yuuri had gotten into the shower and the water had returned some of the blood to his brain that Yuuri realized Viktor had wished him luck at the 4CC Men’s Free Skate.

Viktor knew who he was.


	7. Phone Calls Numbers 7-13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People skate and shit. Oh, also, more phone calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

Okay, Yuuri reasoned with himself, calm down. Just because Vitor knows you’re in the competition doesn’t mean he knows _exactly_ who you are.

You could be Otabek, for all he knew.

Okay, maybe not Otabek.

But there were tons of other men who were in the same competition. Obviously; it was the _Men’s_ Free Skate after all. For _four_ whole _continents_. There was nothing that pointed directly to Yuuri as the Dirty Caller.

Yuuri was so fucked.

He sat in one of the back rooms of the rink, knee bouncing with uncontrollable nervous energy, watching the current skater on the television in the corner. Yuuri was second to last to perform, thanks to his short program score, so the skaters that were going now were hardly much of a threat. As long as he skated just as well as he had two days ago…

Who was he kidding, he was _Yuuri Katsuki_ , the odds were just as well that he’d totally flop.

He stood up and paced the room, glancing on every turn at the television and the growing technical score displayed in the corner. He needed to get ahold of himself, needed to calm down, needed to think, needed to _focus_ , needed to get out of his own fucking head…

The realization of which was not helping at all.

He decided he’d rather be closer to people than isolated with the television, so he got up to pull open the door and came face to face with Chris, a rink pass around his neck.

Chris’ gaze slid down and back up Yuuri’s compact form. “Nervous?” he asked, hitting the nail on the head. Yuuri bit his cheek and nodded. “Come,” Chris said, “Walk with me.”

Chris took the hallway back toward the rink, then turned away down another hall just as they were approaching the main circuit. At the end were some double doors, propped open with the cold winter air blowing in. Yuuri followed Chris out of the doors, and found himself in the Smoking Section of the rink, a cordoned-off section of the sidewalk where attendees could go to light up without leaving the rink boundaries.

Yuuri eyed Chris curiously. “You smoke?” he asked.

Chris shook his head. “Are you kidding? I’m an athlete,” he reminded Yuuri. Yuuri’s brows knitted together, still unsure as to why they had come this way.

Chris breathed deeply. “I grew up in Switzerland, mostly, but I’ve spent a lot of time around Germany, France, England as well. One thing to know about Western Europe: we like our cigarettes.” He scuffed at a discarded one with the toe of his boot.

“Growing up, the smell was all around me, even when I wasn’t paying attention to it. Lots of countries in Asia and the Americas see it as the toxic habit that it truly is, and they look down on the people who engage in it. In Europe, the stigma is not as fierce. And because of that, there’s always been something comforting to me, homey even, about the smell of cigarettes. I’ll often sneak away to these areas right before my skate just to gain a bit of comfort and clear my head before I go on.” He breathed in deeply again.

“Not good to dwell here for very long, though. Shall we?” Chris motioned back toward the door behind Yuuri, and the two of them made their way back inside. “So,” Chris continued as they walked back toward the rink proper, “what is home to you?”

“Home?”

“What’s going to calm you down before you go on?”

Yuuri thought back to the last time a competition had gone really well for him. It was probably before he left for the US. He could remember his Mom and Mari, waiting rinkside for all of his competitions, shouting for luck as he strode onto the ice. “I think… I have a phone call to make,” he told Chris, and Chris smiled and nodded, turning back toward the rink with a wave of his hand.

Yuuri walked to the end of the hall, but didn’t try to go into any of the adjoining rooms. His mother picked up on the first ring. “Yuuri! What a surprise. We’re here with Minako and Yuu-chan’s family to watch you go on in a minute.”

His mom’s voice was like a breath of fresh air. Or cigarette smoke, if you were Chris. “Mom, you didn’t have to do that,” he laughed, wiping the sudden tears from his eyes.

“Nonsense! We do it every time.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for calling! We won’t keep you long though.” There was some rustling, and then Yuuri heard his mom’s voice from far away. “Everyone, Yuuri’s on the phone! Let’s wish him good luck!”

“ _Ganbatte_ , Yuuri!” came the chime of a dozen enthusiastic voices, and he could pick out Mari and Minako, the triplets and their mom, and even Nishigori’s deep boom alongside his father’s more middling tenor.

“Thank you all so much. I- I’ll make you proud.”

“Oh Yuuri,” his mom said, her voice returned to the phone. “We already are. Now go make yourself proud.”

After he hung up, Yuuri stared at his phone for a minute, lost in thought. It was how he caught the new notification from Twitter from Viktor.

**Viktor-Nikiforov-Official**

Good luck to all those Men’s Free Skate contestants! Looking at you, @katsukiyuuri, @CaoBin-CSA

> _589,000 others retweeted_
> 
> **KingJJ**
> 
> Why didn’t I get a good luck message when I attended last year @Viktor-Nikoforov-Official
> 
> **yuri-plie**
> 
> @KingJJ cause we were hoping you’d lose
> 
> **katsukimari**
> 
> GANBATTE, @katsukiyuuri !!!
> 
> **PeachesNChulanont**
> 
> YEAH BOI MY BESTIE GON WRECK IT @katsukiyuuri

Yuuri clicked off his screen. He heard the announcer calling out Leo’s name and knew that he was next to skate.

He wiped the residual tears from the corners of his eyes. His family was watching. _Viktor_ was watching. They were cheering him on from their own corners of the globe.

He was ready.

***

Yuuri won Four Continents by a margin of .7 points. Cao Bin’s face was an unreadable mask as he accepted his silver medal with grace, and Otabek looked, as usual, like he was carved from stone. Yuuri didn’t look at any of the photos of him on the podium, not wanting to see his red, snotty face. _The face of a winner_ , as one fan posted, with a link to “all the best Yuuri Katsuki faces of all time,” a blog put together by another fan.

Maybe he did have fans.

Celestino corralled Yuuri into the press room after he escaped the podium, and Yuuri answered the questions thrown at him as best he could.

“Skater Katsuki, do you want to comment on your jump to gold this competition?”

“Katsuki-san, what helped you most in your climb to the top of the podium during this event?”

“Can we expect more gold from you in the future?”

“Skater Katsuki, do you feel like you can challenge Viktor Nikiforov’s claim on the World Championship title next month?”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Viktor is inarguably the best skater in the world right now,” Yuuri started. “He holds world records for the short program, free skate, and overall score, as well as having choreography that perfectly matches his skill and style. He makes what we do appear effortless. I will be glad to skate alongside him at our next joint competition and challenge him for the gold.”

“Are you saying you see yourself as a threat to Viktor Nikiforov?”

“I hope he takes all his competition as a threat,” Yuuri stated. “It’s how we stay on top of our game.”

“Do you wish to issue a challenge to Viktor Nikiforov?”

“N-no, I-” Yuuri stammered, before sucking in a breath. Staring right at the camera, Yuuri bowed. “Vitya, please skate your best at Worlds, so that I can skate my best, too! _Ganbatte!_ ”

It was only later, when Peach sent him a particularly entertaining meme of him bowing to Viktor on national television, that he realized he’d accidentally called him Vitya.

No one else seemed to notice.

***

_“Vitya!”_

_“Ah, ahh, fuck, you sound so desperate…”_

_“Vitya, please… it’s pulsing so deep…”_

_“Is it touching your sweet spot?”_

_“Aah-ah, n-not all the way.”_

_“I want you to come untouched. Come just from using the vibrator.”_

_“HHHHHNNNG…”_

_“Do you think you can do that?”_

_“I- yes, yes, anything you want, Vitya…”_

_“Move the vibrator so it’s pressing up against that spot.”_

_“AAAHH, AAH, VITYA!”_

_“Hahh… are you close?”_

_“SO CLOSE, PLEASE, V— HAAH — NNNNNGG…”_

_“Ahh, ahhh, fuck… come for me…”_

_“HAAAFUUUNNNNGGCKkk…”_

***

Yuuri didn’t time his calls for Viktor’s practices anymore. Viktor almost always picked up. If he didn’t, Yuuri still left little dirty messages, but they had lost their appeal in comparison to the real thing. Now, if he got the voicemail, he’d leave a little thought for Viktor to find later, something he was mulling over doing or a taste of what was to come for their next phone call. Once, Yuuri jerked off in the shower while he knew Viktor was at practice, and then just to tease him, called and left a message that was just him shouting Viktor’s name as he came all over himself.

Viktor was particularly eager the next time they spoke.

Yuuri was now getting all the encouragement he needed from Viktor himself; their sessions always left the skating god sated and happy, and Yuuri came to crave the simple, honest voice Viktor would use just after their encounters. Of course, he craved the needy, desperate voice Viktor used whenever he picked up one of his calls, as well.

***

_“Stop.”_

_“HHHHHHNNG, no please….”_

_“Not yet.”_

_“Please, I was so close… fuck I-I_ NEED _it… I need you…”_

_“No.”_

_“GOD… FUCK… PLEASE I WANT TO COME SO BAD…”_

_“Are you crying, Vitya?”_

_“HHHHHHHHHMNG…”_

_“You cry so pretty, my sweet sweet boy. Let’s see if we can make you cry some more. Start again.”_

***

However, just because they were connecting in real-time didn’t stop Viktor from posting cute little messages on social media for Yuuri to find later. 

**Viktor-Nikiforov-Official**

Hush Hush by Asher Monroe [ https://youtu.be/cu-V56iPfFM ](https://youtu.be/cu-V56iPfFM) #dirtylittlesecret #wantyouformyself #noneedforkissandtell

> _671,000 others retweeted_
> 
> **CookieChris**
> 
> I HELP YOU OUT AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET MORE MYSTERIOUS TWITTER POSTS @Viktor-Nikiforov-Official
> 
> **yuri-plie**
> 
> @Viktor-Nikiforov-Official quit being gross

So many fans were speculating about Viktor’s secret love affair that Yuuri had given up trying to scan them all and instead used Peach as his filter, since he would send him the best theories anyways. Yuuri had a near heart-attack when one of his own fans put forward an idea that was a little too close to home.

**KatsuKissMe**

Okay, but like you guys have seen the Katsuki Yuuri meme of him calling Viktor “Vitya” right I mean come on, what if…? #Nikiforovsdirtylittlesecret #hypothesisnumber326 #itcouldhappen

> _24,600 others retweeted_
> 
> **Chris-dont-stophe**
> 
> WTF are you talking about crazy b if anyone’s getting down on the DL w Viktor it’s Chris they’ve been bffs for years don’t tell me you wouldn’t tap that @KatsuKissMe
> 
> **SweetLilSinnamonRoll**
> 
> Katsuki is the MOST ATTRACTIVE DON’T EVEN LIE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH CUTE BABIES @Chris-dont-stophe @KatsuKissMe
> 
> **VikkiNikkiNikiforov**
> 
> @SweetLilSinnamonRoll you need to take Biology 101 again because that’s not how that shit works
> 
> **YuurMy1trulov**
> 
> Ahahahaha this seems a little far fetched I mean, do they even know each other? They’ve never been seen together in public, plus I doubt they’d be good together, their personalities are too dissimilar IMO @KatsuKissMe
> 
> **PeachesNChulanont**
> 
> Have you seen this one lol @katsukiyuuri

Fortunately for Yuuri, most people took the idea as a joke. Unfortunately for Yuuri’s anxiety, most people took the idea as a joke.

***

_“So fucking hard… so fucking close… Vitya, I need your ass…”_

_“Mmmm, yes, take it, take it, whatever you need…”_

_“I want you to sit on my cock and slide up and down my dick…”_

_“I want to ride you… I want to ride you nice and slow…”_

_“Don’t you dare.”_

_“I’m going to torture you with it slow… nice… and slow…”_

_“Hah… tease…”_

_“Yes I am. But you love it because you get to watch me…”_

_“HaAH, ahh…”_

_“Watch as I… lower myself down, and then lift my hips…”_

_“Fff… haah, Vitya… you’re torturing me…”_

_“… and then sink back down all the way, until your cock is pressing deep, deep, deep…”_

_“Fuck, so deep… I want to come inside you, please…”_

_“You want it? Hah… come and take it…”_

_“I’m gonna grab your hips and start thrusting up into them…”_

_“Oh fuck, yes, oh fuck…”_

_“Fuck, I can’t stand it, Vitya, you’re so tight, ahhh, fuck…”_

_“I can feel every inch of you pounding into me…”_

_“I’m gonna bruise your hips with my fingers, ahh, AAhh, gonna take what I need, mmmm…”_

_“Oh god, use me, please, AHHH, fuck…”_

_“I’m watching where I disappear into your body… fuck you take my cock so well, baby…”_

_“AAHH, AAAH, YES, MO— PLEASE —”_

_“Do you want my cum, baby?”_

_“FUCK, YES, GOD —”_

***

Worlds was his final chance to prove himself as a skater of caliber, and the entire world seemed to be on his case about it, especially close to home. Celestino scheduled extra private practices just for Yuuri so he could work on his jumps and improve his ability to land them confidently. Peach was cooking every night — Thai fusion dishes that were both healthy and delicious, but that made Yuuri miss his mother’s cooking even more than normal.

Even his family was in on the conspiracy. He got a package in the mail from his mom with a collection of messages and trinkets from almost everyone he knew back in Hasetsu. His favorite was the crayoned message from Yuuko’s little girls, who had scribbled their best wishes in pink, purple and blue crayons and included a picture of Yuuri at the top of the podium, with a figure that looked suspiciously like Viktor Nikiforov smiling from second place and a crying stick figure wearing a “JJ” sweater pushed into the corner of the page. Yuuri put the letter and the picture in his skating bag so he could keep it as a memento and take it out whenever he felt particularly down on himself.

***

_“AhhAAAAAHHHHFFFF —_

_“Fuck…_

_“Goddammit…”_

_“Did you already come? Fuck that’s hot…”_

_“I c-couldn’t… I couldn’t stop… Fuck that was so good…”_

_“Mmm, care to keep playing?”_

_“Hhhhhh, I don’t know if I can…”_

_“I want you to touch yourself again. Now, while you’re still feeling sensitive.”_

_“Fff— a-alright, I can try…”_

_“Fuck, Vitya, if I were there I’d pull your hips onto my thighs and fuck you straight through your orgasm…”_

_“Ahh, fuck, Y— yes…”_

_“I wouldn’t give a fuck that you were in overstim, I’d just keep going so the pressure never let up…”_

_“Holy shit, holy shit, fuck, no…”_

_“Mmm, you like it, don’t you?”_

_“I fucking love it. Keep going.”_

***

Yuuri never mentioned, in any of their subsequent phone calls, the fact that Viktor had wished him luck at 4CC. Viktor seemed content not to bring it up again either, although he did start branching out into more innocent phone call territory at the start of their calls, since he claimed he “could never get anything out of you after we’re done” in an endearing tone. Yuuri was only too happy for the additional window into Viktor’s everyday life.

“Just got out of practice. Man, Yakov was tough on me today, it’s not fair…”

“Makkachin did the cutest thing yesterday! We went to the park…”

“… and then Yura brought piroshki the next day, just because I mentioned I had a craving for his _Deda’s_ cooking! Everyone thinks he’s some sort of teenage punk, but he’s really just an adorable kitten…”

“I was caught by a reporter earlier on the way into the rink who wanted to know what brand of lip gloss I prefer. I mean, really what do these people even do with this kind of information?”

“… So, Worlds is coming up,” Viktor said one day after he and Yuuri had exchanged their regular greetings. It was the first mention of ice skating since their first in-person phone call.

Yuuri hesitated, not sure if he wanted to say anything. But truth be told, he had already given himself away. “Mhm,” he agreed stiffly.

“… And… you’re going to be there.”

“Viktor—”

“I-I know you don’t really want to talk about it,” Viktor interrupted him. “I just — I’ve had a lot of fun. On these calls. With you.” Yuuri heard him swallow dryly through the phone line. “And I want to… have more fun.”

 _More fun_ , Yuuri thought. “Oh-okay,” he stammered, thinking about phone calls from their hotel rooms, many floors away. “I can call you—”

“No, Y— I…” Viktor sighed. “I-I want to do this for real.”

 _For real._ Yuuri’s head spun. Viktor wanted to do this _for real._ “Y-you mean like… actually have sex?” he squeaked out.

Viktor chuckled. “Sure, if that’s what you want. I meant I’d like to go out to dinner, but I won’t say no if we end up back at one of our rooms at the end of the night.”

Oh. _For real_ meant like _dating._ Like… _dating for real._ Fifteen-year-old Yuuri was sitting in shock in the back of Yuuri’s mind; drunk, tango Yuuri was leaping around his brain; and all the while Yuuri’s heart in his chest beat out _holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck…_

Yuuri thought back to all of the fan theories about what was going on with Viktor, thought back to all of the big names that had been floated as theories for people Viktor would secretly date. From foreign models to politicians; even the theory about him and Chris getting it on seemed more plausible in Yuuri’s eyes. He and Viktor, they were just too… too…

Viktor was too good for him. They would never work.

“I don’t think that can happen,” Yuuri whispered into the phone.

Viktor’s breath caught. “O-oh,” he said. “I-I didn’t realize. I-I’m sorry, I should have known…”

“Viktor, it’s just—”

“N-no, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain,” Viktor said. “I get it, I’m good for phone sex, for a quick release, but you’re not the first to tell me I’m not ‘boyfriend material’.” A stifled sob wrenched through the phone lines.

“Wha— Viktor… Vitya, no—”

“Y-you know, I’m not r-really feeling it today, so let’s just f-finish here for now. I’ll talk to you more n-next time, okay?”

“Vitya, WAIT—”

_Click._

Yuuri stared at his phone in shock. _What the fuck did he just do?_

_And how the fuck was he supposed to fix it?_

He tried calling again, but it went straight to voicemail. “Vitya, call me back,” Yuuri said into the phone before hanging up. He then realized he hadn’t covered the phone speaker in that message. Viktor would hear his actual voice.

Fuck it.

Yuuri opened his text messages and started a new message.

_ >> Vitya I know you’re there. _

_ >> Vitya, pick up the phone. _

He tried calling again. No answer.

_ >> Vitya, please. I didn’t mean it like that. _

_ >> I can’t date you _

_ >> It’s not you, it’s me _

_ >> You don’t even know me _

_ >> Please Vitya _

_ >> Fuck I’m sorry _

Yuuri cradled the phone against his chest, tears leaking down his face. He had fucked up royally. In his attempt to protect Viktor, he had ended up hurting him even more.

_Why am I so selfish?_

Yuuri had no way of contacting Viktor outside of his phone. He had no way of reaching out, of assuring him that he was perfect, was wonderful, that Yuuri would date him in a second if he just wasn’t so…

So fucking selfish.

Yuuri couldn’t bear to see the revulsion in Viktor’s eyes the moment he found out his mystery caller had been just Yuuri. Couldn’t bear to be torn down that way. After all, he had liked Viktor for far too many years, had thought about him as the best of the best, the most perfect potential lover, boyfriend, hell, even his someday-future-husband. He couldn’t go down that road; couldn’t get too close to that fantasy, because he couldn’t bear for it to be ripped to shreds by the person he loved most.

He. Loved.

Yuuri’s heart stuttered. He had never used the “L-word” before. Not even in his head.

He. Loved. _Viktor._

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staticscream: "Poor Yuuri...his life is just constant gay panic surrounding Viktor."
> 
> I'm so grateful to everyone who has been sharing theories and posting word-kudos...
> 
> Y'all are giving me life, I could get addicted to this <3


	8. The Text Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart is breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

_ 12:03 pm _

_ >> Vitya I know you’re there. _

_ >> Vitya, pick up the phone. _

_ 12:06 pm _

_ >> Vitya, please. I didn’t mean it like that. _

_ >> I can’t date you _

_ >> It’s not you, it’s me _

_ >> You don’t even know me _

_ >> Please Vitya _

_ >> Fuck I’m sorry _

_ 12:58 pm _

_ >> Vitya, I’m really sorry _

_ >> I understand I hurt you _

_ >> I didn’t mean to, but it’s inevitable _

_ >> I mean… we’re just not good together _

_ >> So I’m not going to contact you again. _

_ 1:10 pm _

_ >> Bye. _


	9. Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nope, no more phone calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [staticscream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscream) <3

Yuuri avoided his fellow competitors up until their first practice together, not wanting to see a single person who might remind him of the disastrous night last week. He stepped onto the ice that morning with hunched shoulders, moving stiffly, aching from more than just a lack of sleep. He could feel Celestino’s concerned gaze follow him around the ice as he stuck to simple spins and his most solid footwork as his warm-ups.

Worlds was going to be a disaster.

Gritting his teeth, determined to at least _try_ a jump before he took to the ice for real, Yuuri started building up speed, and leaped into the air. He could tell, as soon as he left the ice, that the jump was all wrong. Not only did he manage to pop the jump entirely, but his ankle was in the wrong position for the landing. The only way to save it from injury was to roll onto his hip instead. Yuuri skidded across the ice, bruised but intact.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, are you okay?”

Yuuri shook his head. For a moment it had sounded like Viktor calling his name. He opened his eyes.

 _Oh_. It _was_ Viktor calling his name.

Yuuri hadn’t even seen him get on the ice. He tensed, suddenly unsure of what their relationship was anymore. Then he remembered. _Viktor doesn’t know who I am._

For some reason, the thought just made him sadder.

“Yuuri, how many fingers?” Viktor asked, holding up his index, middle finger, and thumb.

“Three.”

Viktor smirked. “Actually, this one’s a thumb,” he joked, before helping Yuuri sit up. “But close enough.”

Yuuri snorted. Would he have laughed ad Viktor’s dumb jokes before their phone calls? He couldn’t remember. His head felt all foggy, but he couldn't tell if it was the fall or Viktor making it that way... 

“You should probably get looked at by a medic just to be on the safe side, but it looked like you caught yourself with your leg and not your ankle, so you should be fine to go on later.” Viktor stood gracefully on his knife shoes before helping Yuuri up to balance on his. Once he was steady on his feet, a slow, scattered clap rang out from the other skaters, who had stopped to watch. Yuuri blushed, raised a hand in acknowledgement, and then skated off to the boards where Celestino waited, ghostly white, a medic already by his elbow.

To his surprise, Viktor followed him all the way to the medic office, where they confirmed his earlier diagnosis and asked Yuuri to ice his hip for 15 minutes before stretching and resuming warm-ups. Viktor smiled. “Glad it was nothing serious,” he commented as the medic walked away.

Yuuri raised a brow. What did Viktor care if another skater — especially one as inconsistent as him — dropped out from injury?

“What was it you told me?” Viktor mused, one finger to his lips. The edge of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “‘Please skate your best at Worlds, so I can skate my best, too’?”

Yuuri groaned and covered his face with his hands. Viktor laughed. “Hey now, that’s no way for a contender for World Champion to behave.”

Yuuri huffed. “Like there are any serious contenders against you.”

Viktor pursed his lips. “Hmm, there’s been a Japanese skater rising through the ranks lately. I’ve had my eye on him for the last few years, but recently he’s been gaining some… confidence.” Viktor winked. “And he’s pretty cute, too.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open.

Viktor’s eyes sparkled, and he leaned in closer, making Yuuri tense. This was the closest they had been with their bodies since the morning after the GPF banquet. Of course, their minds, their _voices_ had been a lot closer recently… and Yuuri was going to pop a boner right here if he kept thinking about that. He cleared his throat.

“Plus,” Viktor purred next to his cheek, tilting his head seductively, “I really wanted to see what you could do to me…”

Yuuri shivered as Viktor pulled back. “You know,” Viktor finished, “on the ice.”

Before he could even process his thoughts — _That sounds like flirting_ — _Viktor wouldn’t flirt with me_ — _Is Viktor FLIRTING with me???_ — Viktor was striding away, out of the medic office and back toward the rest of the Russian team. Yuuri watched him go, remembering his conversation from 4CC.

_“Viktor doesn’t fall often, but when he does he falls fast and deep…”_

Yuuri had never seen Viktor flirt with a competitor.

_“Viktor hasn’t missed a single one of your competitions in years.”_

Viktor had been watching his skating, watching him try and fail to catch up to him, for years? The thought embarrassed Yuuri and caused a rush of warmth to color his cheekbones, but at the same time, it made him proud to have gained his attention.

He wanted more. Did Viktor?

_“… it pains me to see him complimenting you every time we watch your programs, knowing that his phone remains devoid of your messages.”_

Yuuri groaned, remembering. It wasn’t like he could just _message_ Viktor. He couldn’t even call him. At least, not until he burned his phone beyond recognition and got a new number.

It was at that moment that Chris found him. “Yuuri, hey,” the Swiss skater greeted him, hopping up on the bench next to Yuuri. “Nice fall.”

Yuuri shrugged. “Just some bruising, I’m okay to skate,” he told the other skater.

Chris hummed, then leaned back on his palms. “So… I figured it out,” Chris told him, and Yuuri readjusted the ice bag on his hip.

“Figured what out?”

Chris smiled mischievously. “I figured out you’re the _Dirty Caller_!” he practically sang, and Yuuri jumped and spilled his ice on the floor. “Whoops! Let me help you.”

“C-Chris!” Yuuri sputtered as the other skater bent to pick up his ice. “Wh-what are you — how… I don’t—”

“Hey, hey, Yuuri, it’s okay!” Chris said, voice smooth but smile still quirked up in a smirk. “You just fell for the oldest trick in the book, is all.”

“Huh?”

Chris handed him back his ice. “I told every skater at both Europeans and 4CC about Viktor’s _favorite_ kink,” he told Yuuri, “but I told all of them a different one. I mean, come on, who has just one kink? I spread Viktor’s around a bit, and then I just sat back and waited until he called to gush about his latest phone call.” Chris chuckled. “Honestly, I did _not_ peg you for it AT ALL. You surprised me, Katsuki.”

Yuuri turned bright red. He couldn’t believe he had given himself away. AGAIN. “I-I have to go,” he mumbled, making a move to stand up.

“Skater Katsuki, five more minutes of ice!” the medic called across the office. Yuuri sighed and sat back down. With how red his whole body was becoming, the ice would all melt in two and then he could make his escape, but for now he was stuck.

Chris laughed again. “Lighten up, Yuuri, I didn’t come over here to give you a hard time. I came over here to say that… you and Viktor work really well together.”

Yuuri blinked. _Wait, what?_ That was not what he had been expecting.

“You two… I don’t know, you compliment each other. Like, you’re not perfect copies of each other — which one of us really is — but the two of you bring out the best in each other. I’ve been watching it ever since the GPF. Viktor’s more sure of himself, more like a complete person with you as his foil. He’s not quite as fake as he used to be. And you, I mean god, you beat me at Four Continents!” Chris whooped, clapping Yuuri on the back. “Your confidence in yourself has taken off! You guys… you make each other whole.”

Yuuri took a shuddering breath. He had noticed the changes in himself, but did he really have that effect on Viktor? He thought about the breathy laughs Viktor always gave him on the phone, the way his voice seemed to fill out, to gain depth in their conversations, the way he sounded lighter after their calls. He had assumed those changes were because of their… activities… but if it was true outside of their phone calls…

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Have you… told him?”

Chris shook his head. “I think that’s really your job,” he said, giving Yuuri a look. “Unless… you’re really going to pass up on the Living Legend himself.” Chris smirked like he knew that would never happen, and Yuuri had to smile tightly back.

Chris checked his watch. “Your ice is done. Let’s finish up our practice time, yeah?” he asked, hopping down from the bench. Yuuri followed, thanking the medic as they walked out. He pulled out his phone as he scanned the rink for Viktor and found him leaned up against the boards chatting with Georgi. Yuuri sent a quick text message before unzipping his jacket and reclaiming the ice.

_ >> I’m ready. _

Yuuri was able to land both his quad toe loop and his quad salchow when he got back on the ice with minimal wobble. His blood was pumping at full capacity, practically singing in his veins, and he could feel Viktor’s gaze on him as he circled the rink. _That’s right, keep looking at me_ , he thought, selfishly. _Never take your eyes off me._

He didn’t see Viktor again until later that evening, when it was time to draw for placement for the short program. And then, Viktor pulled third on the ice while Yuuri drew into the last wave. Disgruntled, Yuuri stomped off to the back rooms while Viktor and the first wave of competitors took to the ice for warm-ups. He watched Viktor land all his jumps in quick succession, then slide to the boards and slip on his skate guards early. Yuuri took a deep breath to psych himself up, then strode out of the waiting room and back toward the ice, where the silver-haired Russian stood rinkside talking to his coach.

“Viktor.”

Viktor turned, and his face lit up. _“He’s more like a complete person with you.”_

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, taking in his skate-less feet. “You’re not in the first wave, are you?”

“No Viktor, I’m not, I just wanted — “

_“Will the competitors clear the ice. The first wave of the competition will begin momentarily.”_

Yakov spouted something in Russian at Viktor that sounded angry, and Viktor said something back with a wave of his hand. Yakov growled and stomped off, yelling in Russian over his shoulder. Viktor laughed.

“Don’t worry,” Viktor told Yuuri upon seeing his face. “Frustrated, purple Russian is Yakov’s standard character.”

Viktor wandered over to a bench situated rinkside for competitors, and Yuuri followed, feeling like a lost puppy. “Viktor, I wanted —”

“Oh!” Viktor exclaimed. “Emil’s up first, he’s got such great programs this year.” He looked at Yuuri as if surprised he hadn’t sat down yet. “Are you going to watch?” he asked.

Yuuri fidgetted for a moment, then sat next to Viktor. Emil was starting; he’d have to wait until his program was over in order to speak to Viktor. He bounced his knee nervously through the whole first half until Viktor reached out and laid a hand on it to still him. Yuuri looked up, and Viktor quirked an eyebrow at him before returning his attention to Emil on the ice. Yuuri’s face burned until Emil’s song was over. Then Viktor jumped to his feet, loudly applauding.

Yuuri got to his feet too. “Viktor, I —”

“Oh, Yuuri, I’m up next, and Yakov is gone. Can you… do you think you can hold my things?”

Yuuri blinked. “S-sure,” he said, holding out his hands for Viktor’s water bottle and phone. He followed Viktor to the boards and watched as he stretched his calves and glutes in last-minute preparation. Then he grabbed Viktor’s skate guards as the second competitor skated off the ice and Viktor stepped into the rink.

Viktor’s phone buzzed, and Yuuri jumped. He had to juggle his armload of items to keep them from spilling. Grabbing the phone with his right hand, the screen lit up, reminding Viktor of an unread message. Yuuri’s face burned as he recognized his message from earlier that day.

_ << I’m ready. _

Then his eyes went wide as he took in the whole message.

**Yuuri Bae <3**

_2:37 pm_

_ << I’m ready _

Holy fuck.

Yuuri was already saved in Viktor’s phone.

Yuuri set down the skate guards and the water bottle and slid Viktor’s phone screen up to unlock it, finding and opening his text messages.

**Yuuri Bae <3**

_March 7 at 8:03 pm_

_ << Vitya I know you’re there. _

_ << Vitya, pick up the phone. _

_March 7 at 8:06 pm_

_ << Vitya, please. I didn’t mean it like that. _

_ << I can’t date you _

_ << It’s not you, it’s me _

_ << You don’t even know me _

_ << Please Vitya _

_ << Fuck I’m sorry _

_March 7 at 8:58 pm_

_ << Vitya, I’m really sorry _

_ << I understand I hurt you _

_ << I didn’t mean to, but it’s inevitable _

_ << I mean… we’re just not good together _

_ << So I’m not going to contact you again. _

_March 7 at 9:10 pm_

_ << Bye. _

_Today at 2:37 pm_

_ << I’m ready _

Every text message Yuuri had ever written Viktor was saved under his name.

Yuuri hurriedly opened the phone app.

**Recents**

Mama _Facetime video_ Today at 8:21 am

Yakov (4) _Phone call_ Yesterday

Chris _Facetime video_ Saturday

Yakov (2) _Phone call_ Friday

Yuuri Bae <3 (2) _Missed call_ Thursday

Yuuri Bae <3 _Phone call_ Thursday

Yakov _Phone call_ 03/05/20XX

Yakov _Phone call_ 03/04/20XX

Yuuri Bae <3 _Phone call_ 03/02/20XX

…

All his phone calls had his name there as well.

Viktor already knew.

Yuuri looked up at Viktor, out on the ice, now halting in the center of the rink in his starting pose. His eyes flickered over to where Yuuri was standing, dumbstruck, Viktor’s phone dangling from his hand. Viktor’s eyes widened, then his mouth twitched. And then, the music began.

And somehow, Yuuri was watching Viktor’s program again for the hundredth time that season as though he had never seen it before. 

How could such a god want to settle for someone like… like Yuuri?

Yuuri set Viktor’s things down on the bench and walked quickly away from the rink. He took the first hallway off the main circuit and walked until he dead-ended at a hallway full of locked doors. Then he pressed his back up against one and sank to the floor with his head on his knees.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he mustered up the energy to check his texts.

**Viktor Nikiforov**

_ << Yuuri? _

_ << Yuuri, I’m sorry for not telling you I knew. _

_ << Please love, tell me where you are. _

Yuuri dropped a pin in the chat and waited until he heard footsteps approaching. He hastily wiped his face dry on the back of his sleeve.

Viktor rounded the corner, still out of breath and flushed from his performance. “Yuuri,” he breathed, rushing over and falling to his knees in front of where Yuuri sat. “Yuuri, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you wanted me to know, I—”

“I didn’t,” Yuuri admitted. “I didn’t… didn’t think you wanted… this,” he said, gesturing to the mess he had made of himself. “I’m not… for you, Vitya.”

Viktor sighed deeply. “What makes you say that?”

Yuuri groaned. “Viktor, I’m not your competitor, no matter how much you joke about it!” he stated, voice rising with his feelings. “I’m not… I’m not beautiful, or graceful, or anywhere near as talented as you. I won Four Continents by accident and I always manage to screw up my chances because I get stuck in my head and I can’t get out again. And I see you skate and I end up balled up on the floor, crying snot into my warm-up jacket!” Yuuri paused, taking in a deep breath. “I’m not glamorous enough for you. I’m not worthy of being with you. Of going on a _date_ with you. I’m… I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Viktor’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and he reached out to grip Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yuuri… I’ve known who you are since you left me that first message. Before that, even. I’ve watched you skate for years, excited for the chance to compete against you. Just because this is only the second competition where we can doesn’t mean you’re unworthy of it.” He smiled sadly. “You just… needed some encouragement.

“Yuuri, I’ve been looking forward to your calls ever since the GPF because I loved the idea of you liking me enough to take care of me like that. To send me little messages about how much you were thinking of me while I was busy. It was _so_ hot, Yuuri,” he sighed, smiling. “I was excited by the phone calls _because_ I knew they were you. Not because I didn’t know who they were from.

“And when I asked you out on a date… I was asking _you_ , Yuuri. I want to go on a date with _you_.”

_I want to go on a date with you._

The revelation echoed in Yuuri’s head again after Viktor finished speaking. _Viktor… actually wants me? He wants to date me?_

“Why?” he blurted out.

Viktor laughed, sliding his arms slowly up Yuuri’s arms to engulf him into a hug. “Yuuri… despite what you think of yourself, you’re one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. And your body sings out on the ice; the way you move is like making music.” Viktor pulled back just enough to meet Yuuri’s eyes, and Yuuri blushed under the focused attention. “I want to get to know you better,” Viktor told him. “I want to date you and fuck you and let you fuck me. And then, if we’re half as compatible at the dating as we are at the fucking, one day I’d like to marry you.”

Yuuri squeaked, his face taking on a deeper shade of red. “Th-that’s… I-I, no, y-you…”

Viktor laughed again and hugged him close against his chest. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” Viktor sighed, squeezing tight.

Yuuri sank into the feeling of Viktor’s arms finally, _finally_ around him at last. And slowly, _slowly_ , he started to believe that this was actually happening to him.

Viktor Nikiforov was asking him out on a _date_.

“O-okay,” Yuuri finally managed to squeak out. “W-we can go out.”

Viktor hummed in satisfaction, popping a kiss onto Yuuri’s temple that burned straight through him to the soles of his feet. “First things first, though,” Viktor stated, standing up and pulling on Yuuri, but not letting go of him for a moment.

“W-what’s that?” Yuuri asked, completely lost in the moment.

Viktor winked and started leading Yuuri back to the rink by his hand. “You have a competition to crush.”

***

Yuuri ended up in third place after the free skate, securing him a spot on the podium without managing to unseat Viktor. He had come dangerously close to breaking his record in the short program, but gaining a personal best in both skates would have to do. For now.

Yuuri couldn’t stop smiling as he stood below Viktor on the lowest step of the dais, camera bulbs flashing all around them. He hoped that fan that started the “Top Yuuri Katsuki Faces” blog would add this one to their collection.

Viktor smiled for the cameras, perfectly composed and expertly put-together, showing off all his best pre-prepared smiles and winking at the crowd. However, as soon as he looked down at Yuuri, his eyes lit up, his smile stretched until it took over his carefully coiffed composure, and he threw an arm around Yuuri in overflowing enthusiasm.

Yuuri blushed and looked back at the cameras, which were now furiously snapping pictures of the two of them while JJ remained oblivious on the other end of the podium. _Yeah_ , Yuuri thought to himself. _I could get used to this_.

***

**katsukiyuuri**

delicate by Taylor Swift [ https://youtu.be/tCXGJQYZ9JA ](https://youtu.be/tCXGJQYZ9JA) @Viktor-Nikiforov-Official #youmustlikemeforme #isittoosoontodothisyet #Nikiforovsdirtylittlesecret #causeilikeyou

> _Viktor-Nikiforov-Official and 1,892,000 others retweeted_
> 
> **CookieChris**
> 
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> 
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> 
> OMG WHAAAATT EVERYONE MY BEST FRIEND JUST GOT MARRIED @CookieChris @katsukiyuuri
> 
> **katsukiyuuri**
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> 
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> 
> **yuri-plie**
> 
> @katsukiyuuri @Viktor-Nikiforov-Official gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, past all the angst, we've got one more chapter to close. Thanks for taking part in the journey! :D


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